An Eventful and Emotionally Dense Time

It has been a while since my last post, I know, but with good reason.  A big chunk of the time was spent at a former dude ranch out in the middle of Grand Teton National Park.  And that trip was bracketed on either end by rather heavy-duty doctor appointments.  We met with the oncologist for the first time about four hours before leaving for Wyoming, and met again with both the oncologist and the surgeon about 36 hours after getting back home.

A heavy-duty time.  The trip to Wyoming had been planned for a year.  It was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream to see a total solar eclipse.  We did, and it was stunning.  Here are a few pix, not of the eclipse itself but of our experience:

Our son Nick making tiny eclipses with his laced fingers (before totality)

Some of our fellow eclipse watchers

The view at our backs as we faced the eclipse

Staring at the sun with naked eyes during totality

The former dude ranch where we were staying is now a campus of the Teton Science School.  The rest of the week involved outings led by science school staff to various parts of Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone National Park. It was all fabulous, a wonderful time shared with our younger son Nick, daughter-in-law Katey, and two little granddaughters, Josie (3) and Frances (1). 

 

The icing on the cake was a plot by our two sons.  At breakfast on our last full day in Jackson Hole, son Nick poked me and said "Surprise for you"--pointing out the window.  There were older son Peter and grandson Henry walking up to the dining lodge! They had driven over from Salt Lake City to spend the morning with us, guided to our remote spot by info Nick had shared before the week even began.  Gotta love my sweeties!

 

As I told my internist, it was my preferred form of neoadjuvant therapy (that's what they call it when they give you chemo before surgery: neoadjuvant therapy.  I'll take an eclipse and a couple of national parks any day instead).

But bubbling along in my awareness the whole time were the two big decisions I had to make, one for the oncologist (whether to do real neoadjuvant therapy with two strong chemo drugs before surgery, followed by more of the two chemo drugs after, or whether to go for a gentler regimen of surgery first and one chemo drug after) and one for the surgeon (mastectomy vs. lumpectomy).  It definitely gave a distinctive flavor to the eclipse trip.

The problem is, you have to make these decisions with inadequate information.  The definitive information you need about your tumor and its possible spread is only obtained through surgery, so inevitably you won't have it when you have to make the decisions about chemo and surgery.

Plus, my efforts to gain as much information as I could were constrained by the fact that we were way out in the (very beautiful) middle of nowhere, with no cell phone service and only occasional wifi. So there were definite emotional peaks and valleys, not unlike those scratchy Grand Teton peaks we saw whenever we stepped out of our bunkhouse. 

We got home late Saturday evening, had a busy Sunday of church, laundry, grocery shopping, and an evening social engagement (i.e., no down time), and then bright and early Monday morning presented ourselves once again at the oncologist's office, where I had to announce my decision re chemo.  Brief lunch break, then on to the surgeon's office where I had to announce my decision re surgery.  An emotionally loaded day.

An emotionally loaded day which was followed by another.  Yesterday we attended chemo class at the cancer center, full of valuable and useful information but also a deep immersion in the difficult realities that lie ahead. By last night, I was feeling pretty emotionally whipsawed, even battered. Journaling and my tiny angels meditation helped.

So now we have a plan.

I'm going with surgery first, followed by gentler chemo.  And the surgery will be lumpectomy, which means I will also have radiation.  It plots out like this: surgery; 3-4 weeks healing time; 12 weeks of weekly herceptin plus chemo; 3 weeks or so of healing time; 6 weeks of 5 day per week radiation; then continuing with the herceptin for the balance of a full calendar year, and adding a hormone blocking pill that I will take for 5 years.

And I have been told by multiple authoritative persons that I will lose my hair.

Anticipating that, I bought some pretty earrings and a genuine Stetson cowboy hat in Jackson.  If I have to do this, I may as well do it in style.